


Body Like A Canvas

by halduronbrightwang



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Drinking, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Tattoos, memorial tattoos, mentions of addiciton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 18:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17006493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halduronbrightwang/pseuds/halduronbrightwang
Summary: Underneath many of his tattoos, if the light hit them just right, he could see the grooves and raised marks of hidden scars. The scars of and soldier, all over his body. That was a life beyond the man now, who sat before him with a body like a canvas, made into a living work of art. Many, he could guess, were by his own hand. Those that were, undoubtedly were that of his small army of apprentices, tirelessly working away.





	Body Like A Canvas

The first time the now Blood Knight met the artist, it was in a bar. He was tipsy already, watching the man draw in ink on a woman's back in the corner, her lying down on the bar’s counter in the dim light. He sketched a phoenix, quickly yet precise. To Inris’s surprise, he immediately began to tattoo her right there. His machine, powered by an arcane crystal that would supply any blood elf with magic for at least a month, hummed away, making thick red lines in the woman's skin.

Even more to his surprise, a bartender brought the man a drink, a colorful cocktail that he downed on the spot, not even hesitating. He just kept tattooing, for several hours even as other patrons danced and drank the night away. Occasionally the woman would take a break and he'd do a quick one for others mingling about the bar- a name, a flower, the nation's symbol. It wasn't until the early dawn hours as the bartenders ushered everyone to leave that he finished- wiping off the excess ink and helping the woman put her top back on as he began to pack up.

“Anyone who wanted some work from me, I will be back here tomorrow, the same time.”

It was true, as the next day Inris found him there, this time working on a man’s leg. Or rather, just finishing it as he denied payment. 

“No, all memorials for our servicemen, they're free of charge.” 

“Then at least take it as a tip.” The other replied, rolling down his pant leg.

The artist eventually nodded, took the handful of gold, and began cleaning his tools. His eyes set on Inris, waving him down. 

“Do you want something?”

It was something he had never really thought of before, but why not. Chatting with him, he eventually decided on Silvermoon’s crest on his shoulder, in honor of their fallen brethren. 

Once again, he denied payment.

“You have good skin for this, it'll look stunning once it's done.” Willenhime, as he learned the artist's name was, said as he wiped off excess ink, once again going back in with a brilliant red for the crest’s field.

“Thanks- maybe I'll get another one on the other shoulder some time.”

“The same, or different?” He raised his eyebrows curiously. Inris thought about that a long minute as his arm began to cramp.

“Different, and another day.”

Willenhime nodded, wiping his arm again. “Of what sort then, to match?”

“...Blood Knight crest.” Inris replied, for but a moment worried that this man too felt disdain for them, but more that he'd stop the tattoo and refuse to finish over it.

Willenhime did not, just nodded and continued until it was done in silence. This gave Inris plenty of time to look over the man's own tattoos- he had plenty. A field of flowers and spirals of stars trailed down his neck and arms, his forearm with a parchment containing a list of names all along it. Reading it had him realize just why he gave memorials to the fallen for free; that tattoo was his own, and the list was long. Friends and comrades who'd died in battle, many he recognized as those honored when the city fell to Arthas those years ago.

Underneath many of Willenhime’s tattoos, if the light hit them just right, he could see the grooves and raised marks of hidden scars. The scars of and soldier, all over his body. Inris could only guess that list of names were of his platoon that never came back. Neither spoke of it, but the meaning was mutually understood. Once he wrapped up his work, Willen shook Inris’ hand and told him how to take care of the tattoo as it healed, and how he'd look forward to seeing him again for his next piece.

Inris nodded, saying he'd come again sometime soon.

And he did, time and time again. First for the matching Blood Knight crest with Allir, then again for a piece on his back, dedicated to Elite Tauren Chieftain which Inris actually paid for, only to despair when they changed their logo and he got it redone a few months later, much to Will’s amusement.

After having been kicked out of the Blood Knights and onto the streets, Inris sought him out again at the Drunken Serpent, but the man was nowhere to be found. His usual customers weren't either. In confusion, Inris searched the bar until the bartender flagged him down, pouring his usual drink he got when he was getting inked.

“Looking for Will?” She placed it in front of him, wiping off the counter as he sat.

“Yes… I've never seen him not here, where is he?” Inris took a sip, the sour lime and fruity tartness of the juice refreshing after a long day wandering with nothing better to do.

“He's finally got a shop, just up the road. You probably passed right by it, it's above the Silvermoon City Inn, door just to the left of it.” 

He didn't need more prompting, quickly paying for his drink and taking it with him. The shop, for being on the Murder Row side of the inn, was nicer than expected. Clean tile floors, a lovely stained glass window looking over the dreary street, framed by blue silk curtains… it was something far above what Inris had thought the man could afford considering nearly all the tattoos he'd seen him do were for free. Willenhime even had a receptionist, a pretty little thing not older than 150 and yet to be completely covered in art like the man himself insisting that he was only taking appointments today.

Willenhime stepped out from the back, hands gloved and smeared with ink, and waved her down. 

“No no, it's alright. Inris, how have you been my friend? Looking for another piece?” He looked so different now, almost all the tattoos he had when Inris last saw him those years ago covered with new ones- fresh vibrant flowers and bold swirling colors not just in the places he could reach himself but all over, more than just his own canvas but one for his apprentices as well. The memorial on his arm too had been redone, no longer faded. 

“I.. yeah. Yes, I am.” Inris shook his hand and they sat, talking it over. Will convinced him to rather than cover up completely the matching crests on his shoulders, to add onto them. Inris decided upon flames, out of spite. Just as his membership as a Blood Knight had gone up in flames, so too did the tattoo as Willen marked it out, curling flames trailing down his arms. For good measure, so they would match, he touched up the crests themselves.

“You got badly sunburnt, didn't you? This looks like sun damage.” Willenhime asked, dipping the needle in a bright orange ink.. Inris nodded, though his attention was more on the arcane sliver in the tattoo gun. 

“Something like that.”

When all was said and done, Inris swiped the crystal on his way out. It was mostly spent, but more than enough for a good hit or two before he used it up completely. 

-

The next time he sought Willenhime out, he already knew why he was there, as Allir was already in his chair, just finishing getting his tattoo done. 

“The same for you, I would guess.”

Inris nodded.

“Same spot?”

Again, he nodded, unbuttoning his shirt. When Allir was done he put his shirt back on and left the scrap of paper behind as Inris took his spot in the chair. Willen changed his needles, unpacked fresh ink, and handed the paper to Inris. After all, he just spent a long while doing it for Allir, he would not need to look at the reference again.

“She'd of loved it, I bet. Your friend has beautiful handwriting.”

He felt hollow at that, thumbing the parchment. Allir’s script was gorgeous but the word- the name, scrawled across it only brought him pain. 

“Use your darkest black- I don't want it to fade.”

The pain of the needle was nothing compared to the pain he felt from her passing as Will masterfully inscribed his chest with her name. As like all memorials, Will insisted no charge. It was with heavy heart Inris left, still mourning his friend who's name he would carry to his death on his skin.

-

Like the last time Inris had gone years without seeing Willenhime, looking upon him now was like seeing a completely different man. His tattoos once again replaced. Added onto his list on his arm were several names, still reddened from the bite of the needle. Willenhime’s shop was clustered with patrons, warriors, soldiers all here for the same purpose. Will’s apprentices worked tirelessly on inscribing the names of those who fell at the Wrathgate into flesh, as solemn as those who sat in their chairs and on their tables.

Willenhime didn't even ask for who Inris was here to get carved into his skin, but gave him him a tight hug as he ushered him to a private corner. Right below Amazil’s, Allir’s name joined right over his heart soon enough.


End file.
